


Maneater

by Tea_Falcon



Category: Outlast (Video Games), The Last of Us (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - The Last of Us (Video Games) Setting, Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Apocalypse, Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Cannibalism, Character Death, Gen, Gore, Idiots in Love, Implied Sexual Content, Loosing Fingers, M/M, Tags May Change, Zombies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-10
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-18 02:28:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29851179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tea_Falcon/pseuds/Tea_Falcon
Summary: Maybe they’ll just lose their minds together. Real poetic.
Relationships: Marta/Val (Outlast), Waylon Park & Miles Upshur, Waylon Park/Miles Upshur
Comments: 1
Kudos: 2





	1. Intermission

> "Intermission. Year 9, day 21. This is Waylon Park and Miles Upshur. We are in Washington D.C. We are headed to Harlem now. We don't know if we are gonna make it..." Waylon paused. Releasing the button on the radio com. He turned to Miles. The man laid restless on the floor, a peaceful expression wore. He always looks so calm when he's asleep. It's the only way he gets to be away from this hell. Waylon didn't blame him. He sighed, clicking the radio com back on. "...If anyone is out there, join us. We can't be the only ones.. Can't be... This is,, Waylon Park and Miles Upshur. We are in Washington D.C........"

"Fuck! Biters!!" Waylon rushed behind Miles, glancing behind to watch the runners practically leap for them. The church windows lit the hallway. The sun beaming in. Leaving colors of red, blue and yellow in hues. The clanking of photos falling off the walls and jingles of the click of their boots hitting the tile floor was what filled the sound. That. And the constant groaning. No. Screeching is a better word. It constantly went on. Waylon picked up his speed. Rushing in forward of Miles, bursting through the door, slamming it shut after Miles ran out behind him.

Waylon held the door shut as Miles grabbed a nearby plank of wood. Inserting it in between the two door handles. Blocking it from opening. They both stood back, panting. Sweat dripped down from their forehead. Miles could still feel his adrenaline pumping. They stared in silence as fingers slipped through the cracks of the doors. The groaning didn’t stop. Neither did their movements. 

Park coughed, wiping the sweat with the bottom of his palm. Sucking the air through his teeth. “Are you okay?” He looked over to Miles. Squinting a bit from the sun being in view. Sunset. So much for staying the night in there.. Miles let out a sigh.

“Fucking biters.” He spat out blood. Wiping the residue from his lip.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Waylon sighed, looking upward. Raising a hand to block the sun. 

Miles turned to the clearing. Watching as the sun fell down into the city, casting shadows between the skyscrapers. Or what was left of it. They took the earth from mother nature and now she’s taking it back. Good for her. Must be loving it. Punishing the people who neglected seeing it.. Black birds danced around in the sky. The wind was their music. And the city was their ballroom. Then who were they in their eyes? Miles didn’t know. They must be laughing too. Waylon stood behind him. Following his line of sight. Tracing their figures with lines.

“Little symbolic, right?”

“Maybe. Have a thing for analyzing, Park?”

Waylon huffed, shrugging. Lowering his hand as the sun came down. “Not really. I’m no _analyzer_ but, we do need to get going. And I feel a lot safer with a roof under my head. Now come on, cowboy.” He walked forward, jumping over the fence. Carefully making his way down to the street. Miles hesitated. Looking at the door, still having fingers bridge around the cracks. He was starting to feel the same way. Not wasting anymore time. He followed Waylon. Staring down at the street in front of them.

Vacant apartments and abandoned buildings. Windows shattered, roads littered and overgrown vines with all sorts of plant life. It was quiet. Which normally, would be a good thing. Who doesn’t like the quietness of the late night city, filled with bustling cars and screaming arguments. But now, even in the quietness, everything is dangerous. 

Waylon peered into a shop. It looked like a gun store. Handy. And by the way he was smiling now, Miles was right. It was. “We can probably stay the night in there.” Waylon commented. He jiggled the door handle. Locked shut. He sighed, circling around the back as Miles stood close to the front. Miles was still on alert. Hell, he didn’t even feel safe still being next to those runners. Sure, they would clear in the morning, if they’re lucky. The only thing holding them from getting out is that plank of wood. And who knows how much that will hold. Miles turned back, hearing the bell ring as the door opened. His own thoughts released as the blonde raised his brows, a wide smile on his face. Miles would never get use to that. 

“Got keys.”

“Well, look at you. Should I give you a medal?”

Waylon hummed, amusingly raising his eyes to direct what he was thinking. A smirk on his face later as he came to a realization. “I think a kiss would be better.”

Miles scoffed. He crossed his arms. Leaning on the front door’s frame. A smile beginning on his own face. “You get on my nerves.”

Waylon shrugged. “It’s my specialty” They stayed silent. Jokingly glaring at one another. What was this? Well, whatever it was. It was halted. Miles was a little disappointed but Waylon was right. “Now come on, there’s a place in the back. Bet there’s some mods in there for your bow. I know you’ve been needing a new one.”

They entered the store. Shelves were filled to the brim with all types of weaponry and useful gun mods. They just hit the jackpot. It was rare to get these. And to have so many. Almost every store was picked from top to bottom. So to find all of these, it’s a miracle. Miles went over the counter to look for more “Off shelf items.” He jumped back. Accidently slipping on the blood. Coming upon a runner. 

“You alright?” Waylon rushed to Miles, peering over the counter. The tension in his shoulders dropped as he realized it wasn’t a normal run-of-the-mill runner. It was a boy. He was laid against the counter, a knife in his hand, dried black blood stained the floor. Innards of his own organs being sprawled out on the ground, black ooze dripped out, covering the tiled floor. It was as if someone slashed his stomach open and left him there. He smelled of a foul odor. It was a mix of a corpse, and rotten food. The boy was skinny, so thin that he couldn’t even get up. It was like his own organs were too heavy for him. Miles connected the dots.. The kid was left alone, starved, and decided to eat himself for food, and then turned due to blood loss or starvation. Maybe both. Miles could hear the shallow breathing, it was still alive. Miles gagged. He can’t leave the kid like this. He took out his knife. Inching his way close. Steadily lowering the boy’s head to the ground. It’s soft hissing silencing. Miles looked at Waylon. He was already out the door. Miles sighed, glancing away as the knife went into the temple. It’s movement stopping. No blood came out. 

Waylon collapsed to the concrete, beginning to heave, he clutched his stomach. Spitting out the remains. Waylon wiped the fluid with his sleeve. Letting out heavy breaths. Miles came out seconds later, standing by. Caressing his back. He handed him water, to which he took a sip, then spat it out. “Thanks.” He knelt up. Releasing a final sigh. Miles looked around. Deciding on to still grab some loot before moving to another shop. Waylon agreed to join but Miles argued against it. So here he was now. Sitting down on the ground as cold air brushed around him. It was a nice change. After being in the burning sun, in an even more burning church. Well. At least they weren't there anymore. And good on that. He didn't like it anyways. In a place where things are meant to be holy, god himself wasn't very holy. What god would want his creations to suffer? When god said he was going to bring the deaths of many upon the world again, don't think many people were thinking of this. Waylon was never religious. Not now, not ever. Because what god, would want a child to turn towards cannibalism for food. Waylon bit his lip, a metallic taste hitting his taste-buds. Blood. 

\---

It was night when Miles was done looting. He walked outside. The door making a final ring, nobody is gonna step in there again. Miles took a marker. ‘One Walker. Dead. Looted.’ He clicked it shut, turning towards the street. The moon lit the walkway. He could see Waylon sitting down, staring at the sky. You could see the stars. 

No more light pollution. Another plus for mother nature. They stared up, it was so brighter than Miles realized. He could see the stars shine down on him. Miles looked down. Even in the night, he could still see Waylon so perfectly. His blond hair shining in the light made it seem gray. And his green eyes were like emeralds. “Beautiful.” Miles subconsciously said. Cold wind brushing against his back. Like an echo. 

Waylon stared back at Miles. Locking their eyes in silence. Waylon stood up. Rain drizzled down in spots and stars. It was like the planets were looking down at them, casting their stars in rain. Shooting them down, like asteroids. It was cold, and yet it felt so warm. "Yeah,, the view is beautiful." What was this? No. He knew what it was. It was comfort. Waylon shifted, grabbing Mile’s hand. Intertwining their fingers. Miles could feel the golden band wrapped around Waylon’s finger. It glistened in the moonlight. Waylon planted a gentle kiss on his hand. His scarred lip brushed on his skin. Poetic. Two of the most idiotic, traumatized and brutal men. Falling in one’s arms as the world itself collapses. This story is too predictable.

Maybe they’ll just lose their minds together. Real poetic like. Miles didn't mind that happening. 

> "Waylon. Intermission. We are in Manhattan, we want to join you. We found a radio in a shop. Heard your little radio alert. This is Val and Marta. If you're still there,, please. Report back. If you want to,, meet or join up, or whatever. We are grouped up around Madison Ave. This is Val and Marta. Signing off. Please,,, please report back. We'll be waiting. Can't wait to meet you Waylon Park and Miles Upshur."


	2. Madison Ave

“What’s your name?”

The officer clicked the pen, pausing at the notepad paper. Waiting for a response to continue. Waylon held tightly on his shoulder, blood stained the blue shirt he wore, reddening it in black. It was a burning sensation, he could feel the warm liquid dripping down from his temple.

”Waylon Park. My wife. My sons- are they okay? Do you know where they are?” Waylon was outside when it happened, he didn’t know if they were okay. The military had shut down the building that they were in, and grabbed out anyone who wasn’t inside yet. Including him. It was a ditch effort to stop people from getting more injured. Waylon didn’t see his family. And since he got injured, he was rushed to the medical tent immediately. Questions came spilling out, but was ultimately stopped when the officer clicked the pen shut.

Grabbing Waylon’s attention as they gave him the ‘look’.

”I’m sorry. Your wife was bitten and in the moment when she was trying to protect your sons. They got attacked. Your family is gone.”

...How does one define grief? What comes first? Shock? Denial? Waylon’s emotions would be described as a “roller coaster” but instead of it being fun and thrilling. It was terrorizing, emotionless. Waylon’s hearing went numb, his hands trembled and his body stood still. He could feel the hot tears breaking away from his eyes, falling down. Shock, then, realization. His screams filled the tent. He didn’t care if he was loud, he didn’t care if runners came. He didn’t care. His throat dried, and his head began to spin. Slowly falling in unconscious.

Lisa. His sons. Bitten.

—-

Its been 8 years since then. He can’t remember her face. So vague, blurred. What did she look like? Waylon gazed down at his ring, it shined in the morning light. His fingers scarred and fingernails dirty. His hand went back down, gaze going lower. A soft bed of dark brown hair, laying gently on his chest. It was Miles. Waylon sighed out a hum, making circles on the other’s back. Planting a kiss on his forehead. Miles smelled like a book, an old one, but also new. He also smelled like tea. Which was odd, because Miles himself didn’t enjoy tea much. Waylon wasn’t bothered by it though.

He wished he could stay like this forever, sleeping in the comfort of someone, knowing they’ll be okay and they will always be with him. But, no. It can never be like that. Waylon sat up, gently slipping out of Mile’s grip, picking up his shirt that was thrown on the floor from last night... Last night. Oh right, last night. Waylon decided to not think about it. Or he’ll just get more red than he already is. Waylon cleared his throat, placing on the shirt and began picking out a pair of jeans. The sunlight came in through the window. Small birds chirped and deers rustled around in the overgrown street.

Rain drizzled down, the blue sky turned a gray and the sun clouded away in darkness.

”Good morning.”

Waylon perked up, turning to Miles who had a sweet smile on his face.

”Good morning, sleeping beauty.”

He tossed Miles his clothes, to which he grabbed them, starting to put them on. Waylon looked away, looking down at the map he took out. Madison Ave. A red circle marked it, provided by yours truly. The person- Val -said they would be around there, Miles had talked with him last night about them being in upper east Manhattan. Next to 2nd Ave. Meaning the person or, people, since they gave two names. Should just be up ahead. They could probably make it there by tonight. Waylon pulled out a black marker, tracing the rode of 2nd Ave, making a line towards Madison Ave. Madison Ave was also next to a hospital. They didn’t specifically say they were in it. But it wouldn’t hurt to check it for supplies. That’s the plan then.

”You found a way?”

Miles peered over Waylon, gazing down at the paper. His hands being placed on his own hips, hair tied in a bun, under hair being down.

”Uh-huh. We can get there before nightfall. That radio signal was made two days ago, so they’re probably still around there.”

Miles nodded, picking up his jacket, placing it on. “Sounds like a plan. Ready to head out?”

Waylon pocketed the map, slipping on his bag. Rubbing his shoulder. He could feel the indents of scars beneath the thin clothing material. Don’t think. Just go.

”Obviously.”

—-

“You need a haircut.”

”And you. Need a shave.”

Waylon gasped amusingly, lightly punching the other in the arm. Miles enthusiastically held his arm in “pain.”

”Ooo, ouch. I think you killed me.”

”You wish.”

They had made their way close to Madison Ave. They’re now headed towards the hospital. The concrete had broken, letting grass overgrow in the cracks and trees bursted through broke areas. Vines grew on the power lines and lamps. It was oddly beautiful. Seeing plant life take back what was there’s. And seeing animals get their territory. Deer passed by, and even a few untamed horses sipped water puddles.

The duo quietly walked pass, not wanting to disturb the animals. And up ahead. Grounded the hospital. The rain began to pour down, to which Miles and Waylon ran in, avoiding to get their clothes wet.

”Here we are. You think they’ll be here?”

“Who knows.” Miles glanced around at the doors, beginning to open each. Or tried to. Since almost every single one was locked tight.

Birds nested above head on lights, but it wasn’t a bother. The two didn’t plan on rummaging through the front only. Waylon shined his flashlight around the hallway. Boards of papers held in place by thumbtacks. A specific one reading “Halloween Day. Dress up and join us at the cafeteria hall.” Waylon remembered the day when Anthony, his youngest son dressed up as a cowboy and his older son, Miguel, went as a comic book hero. Waylon subconsciously smiled, he wished his most important worries were paying bills and getting his kids to school on time, not having to worry about living day to day.

But, course that wasn’t an option. Not anymore. Waylon walked away from the board, ripping off the paper. He walked towards the hallway, coming across a staircase.

”Found anything interesting?”

”Its a staircase.”

Miles raised his brows. “Mm-hmm. You’re right. It is a staircase.”

”Shut up.” 

Miles walked up behind, shining his light on a sign. It indicated that the place had about three stories. Waylon turned to Miles, who simply raised his shoulders halfway.

”Nowhere to go but up.”

Waylon nodded. Taking the first steps when a runner reached out for him. Sending him barreling down on the floor, he shield his neck by blocking it’s own neck from going any further. Miles instinctively took out his knife, getting ready to make aim when an arrow shot point blank into the runner. Sending it falling down on Waylon. Who pushed it right as it did.

“Thanks.”

”That- wasn’t me.”

The two shared confused looks, turning slowly to look at the direction where the arrow came from.

A person stood across the hallway, lowering their bow. They took off their hoodie, pale blond hair in a short cut revealed. Their eyes flickered at the two.

”Are you.. Waylon Park? And Miles Upshur?”

Waylon knelt up, nodding.

“Thank god... I’m Val.”


	3. Arrow Shot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //apologizes for late updates. have no idea how to continue but whateves-.

The three walked outside, Val led the way. Their cloak being draped over their shoulders. The hospital building towered above them, casting shadows on the ground, the sky became colorless and rain fell down on the pavement below. Vines grew overhead, a flock of black birds picked at something in the corner of the outside hospital wall. Miles and Waylon took notice. The birds were startled by their presence, taking flight, revealing a horrid scene.

Bodies laid in the corner of the outside walkway, the smell of cadaverine came from them. Flies buzzed around the rotten decomposing flesh. The two men stood inaudible. Waylon masked his nose with his arm, furrowing his brows at a specific sight. A dead woman with her neck slit open and her legs severed laid awkwardly on the ground. Her face had black lines drip from her eyes. A mouth gaping open, teeth missing and gone. Dried blood covered the ground beneath her. He recognized the hospital gown she wore. His gaze went lower to her torso, the roundness around her stomach was open. A caved in matter of organs and blood surrounded the body. Her ribs were torn apart in an awkward manner, finger marks stained her stomach. As if someone was reaching in to grab something. Hospital gown, female, round at her stomach. Pregnant. The baby. Runners. Waylon gaged. Turning away from the body, eyes stinging. Waylon fell to the ground, retching up clear liquid. Miles stood close, spacing out as his eyes stayed locked on at the woman. Val took notice, turning their body towards the two. They came off unalarmed. Calm even. Miles took note of this. Their eyes narrowed at the bodies.

”You do this?” Miles inquired, shifting his direction towards them. His tone was aggressive, maybe even a little accusing. It didn’t seem to faze them. Val stood dismissively.

“The others yes.- since they were already infected -The woman,, no. Marta and I figured a group of FireFlies came in, took shelter. Then a band of runners came in. You can see for yourself. There’s still some lingering about. Must’ve gotten to her.” Val stayed monotone, sympathetic. They shook their head, hand fidgeting around their crossbow. They opened their opened their mouth to continue but, closed it immediately after. Not wanting to comment on it further. “Come on. Rain is getting worse.” Val jogged back into the hospital. Leaving the two alone.

Waylon cleared his throat, wiping the tears that built up around his eyes. Miles patted his back.

“You okay?”

Waylon nodded, waving his hand dismissively. “It’s just- the smell. Let’s get out of here, Val is probably waiting.”

He walked away, not taking another look. Leaving Miles in the rain. Miles stood motionless. Finding the situation odd. He squinted at a symbol that looked familiar, it was engraved on the woman’s arm. Then Miles recognized it. It was a Scar symbol. His eyes focused on the other bodies, they all wore typical Scar attire. There was no way Val couldn’t guess these weren’t Scars. Why say Fireflies? They were obviously Scars. It wasn’t adding up. A child could even guess these were Scars. Miles was interrupted as Waylon directed him to come inside before he “gets cold.” Miles took one more glimpse, he was definitely gonna discuss this later. It was blatantly obvious. Val was either plain stupid or was hiding something. ~~Maybe both.~~ Probably both.

Lights hung low, sparking from broken wiring. The floor was covered in papers and broken glass. Somehow even the vegetation had grown inside too. Val placed their crossbow behind them, starting to shove a hospital bed that was placed against a door. The two followed behind Val as they opened the room.

——

Marta sketched into a journal. A photo of Val taped to the top of the page for reference. Marta kept glancing between each one, her pen sketching out a face, Marta studied their eyes. They had a specific eye shape. Low hanging dark eye bags, long lashes and thin corners of the eye. Marta heard the sounds of something rolling outside, she instinctively flipped her journal shut. Hovering her hand over the gun that was placed on the back of her jeans. Bracing for anything. Only to come back to her normal posture as Val stepped through the door, her position remained on alert as two men followed behind them. Val unhooked their cloak, tossing it on the hospital bed. They put their crossbow on the table. Bringing a band to tie their hair with.

”Marta, Waylon and Miles. Waylon and Miles, Marta.” The two men gave small introductions, Marta doing the same. Waylon awkwardly unbuttoned his bag, taking out a map that was folded. He settled it next to the crossbow on the table.

”You two were planning on going to Harlem?” His voice was frail. Eyes flickering about. Marta grabbed the crossbow off the table, putting it down on floor. She peered over the paper. Tracing the road from the hospital to Harlem. Stopping at a point. Waylon examined the vital area.

Marta crossed her arms, staring down at the street. “That area was bombed weeks after outbreak day. I saw it happen. That place is probably a big crater now..”

Miles commented in, “Government did that here too?”

Marta nodded, establishing more. “Yeah. They did a lot of shit. That place was populated with citizens and dozens of infected. They bombed the place thinking killing a few people will benefit more- if it will also kill infected in the process. Look where that led them now.”

”Fuck the government.” Miles replied.

The three snickered. Agreeing. “Fuck the government.”

——

“You have horses?” Waylon, Miles, Val and Marta had discussed their plans on going to Harlem. They decided to go through the rode of the bombing. It was the fastest and possibly most easiest way of getting there.

Val affirmed, lending the map of their plans back to him. “Yeah. We have them out in the back of the hospital. We could probably ride there, would be a lot quicker.”

The blonde smiled, it brushed on Val. A gentle smile coming on to theirs. “That _does_ make things a lot easier- Thank you. Get rest, we are leaving tomorrow morning.”

The two nodded, Val closed the door as the men left. They released a held in huff. Marta questions came coming out after she assured the sounds of footsteps were gone. “Did you tell them?”

Val stammered back, shooting her a quick glance. They shook their head, bridging the arch of their nose. “That Miles guy- I think he’s suspecting. The blond one, seems too gullible to notice.”

”What if they ask?”

Val lowered their hand. Eyeing the crossbow that laid on the floor. “If they ask, they ask. I don’t think they have bad intentions.”

”With Scars.” Marta added.

” _Ex-_ Scars.”

They walked towards Marta, giving her an exhausted hug. Planting a kiss on her cheek. Marta embraced their comfort. Taking a step back from their pull, tucking back a piece of hair behind their ear. They looked tired, Marta hummed. “Alrighty, you, let’s get some rest.”

Instantly Val yawned. “That sounds so fucking nice.”

——

Miles unbuttoned his shirt, tossing it to the ground. He stared into the mirror. Bruises, wounds and cuts crossed around his body. Luckily, they were mostly scars. Except for the open cut that hadn’t healed yet. He got it a little ways back, and somehow it still didn’t heal. Miles grabbed an alcoholic wet rag from the medical-kit. Wincing as the burning sensation came through. Waylon spaced out at Miles, after he laid his body on the hospital bed. It grabbed Miles’ view. His gaze looking at him through the mirror. A smirk lingering on his face.

”Didn’t know I had an audience.”

Waylon shrugged, slipping across the bed towards Miles. “Need a participant too?”

Waylon grabbed the rag from Miles’ hand. He gently turned Miles around, setting him on the bed. Waylon carefully braced on the other’s arm. Gently dapping the wound with the rag. Apologizing quietly as Miles jolted at the stinging. He stood back. Reaching out for the med-kit, finding success as he pulled out large bandaid. Waylon placed the kit close by. Focusing back on the wound, cautiously sticking it down to prevent further harm. Miles exhaled. Easing the pain in his collar.

Waylon sat up, settling the kit back on the counter. He knelt down to Miles’ legs. Beginning to untie his boots.

”Hey- you don’t need to-”

Waylon cut him off. Continuing to remove his boots from place. ”I want to. And hush you. I used to do this with Lisa all the time when she had a long or exhausting day. It’s a sign of comfort.”

Miles watched as Waylon neatly took the shoes to the side. Sighing as Waylon stood back up, beginning to kiss his neck. His hands roamed around the other’s body, silently trying to soothe the aches in Miles’ muscles. Waylon delicately leaned Miles back. Pinning him down on the bed. The two traded cheeky-smirks.

”This is a very, provocative,,, position.”

Waylon huffed, snorting. Miles snickering with. “You are so stupid.”

”Oh- me? Okay, at least I wasn’t the one who thought a jalapeño was a fruit.”

Park gasped. “We- do NOT. Talk about that! And hey-! _At least I wasn’t_ the one who was moaning my name last nigh-” Miles slipped one hand out of Waylon’s grip, covering his mouth. Interrupting him with hushing.

”Shhhhh-! You’re being annoying.”

Waylon furrowed his brow. “Moaning.” His voice muffled by Miles’ hand. Both sharing a giggle seconds after.

Waylon was going to comment further but this time Miles actually hushed him, more seriously. Which confused him. Miles whispered. “Listen.”

The two sat in silence, hearing footsteps come from the hallway. It was more than just two. And if the shouting- of “They killed Cassidy!” And “Search the area. They still could be around.” In an unfamiliar tone. Not like Val’s or Martha’s -said anything. It was saying it. The two men acted quickly. Miles slipped his shirt and boots back on, taking his bow and instantly clicking off the lights. Waylon readied his rifle. He took a nearby object. Throwing it at the hospital window. It would be loud, and he knew that. Nonetheless, the window broke. The two men stepped out. Rushing towards Val’s and Marta’s room. But the other two had already done the similar. The four all exchanged the same look. Which was ‘take the horses. And fucking go.’

Val and Marta led the way, Miles and Waylon followed. The rain and a sudden arrow shooting by caused Waylon to slip. Miles turned to him, quickly helping him up, cursing as he did so. That’s when an arrow shot into Waylon’s shoulder and another into his leg. Waylon shouted a curse, wincing at the instant pain that burned into his arm and thigh. Marta and Val took initiative, turning back, stalling the people from Miles and Waylon. Taking aim at them as they came through the broken windows. Miles couldn’t take out the arrow now, only to get Waylon away. Miles lifted Waylon. Carrying him bridal-style. “Come on! Let’s go! Now!”

Marta and Val ran towards the horses, they had been behind the hospital as they said. Hitched on a fence pole next to broken down cars. There wasn’t much covering in the parking lot, Miles ran faster. Glancing down at Waylon who held his shoulder in pain.

Marta and Val stalled the people once more, both on one horse. Aiming their weapons at them. Miles hurriedly got on the horse, he placed Waylon in front of him. Making Waylon face him. Miles held onto Waylon, letting the blonde lean on him. Blood staining his clothes. “Let’s go! Now!” Marta and Val rode behind Miles, exiting the hospital. Marta shot two fire-flares in the sky. The sound and brightness would send runners, clickers and anything- their way. Marta smiled as she heard the screaming of a man, silencing out in echos, a Scar. The four rode out into the night and road. Rain poured down on them, the clicking of the horses hooves hit the asphalt below them. Miles blindly grabbed his jacket, covering Waylon from the rain. He held him close, one hand on his back and the other on the bridle of the horse. He could feel the end of the arrow poking at his body. Seriously.

Fuck Scars. So much for staying there.


End file.
